


Welcome to the Show {HIATUS}

by Rincanpy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rincanpy/pseuds/Rincanpy
Summary: Jamison has worked at the circus for many years, and has known the cruelty of his boss, but he never imagined that getting injured would be the best thing that's ever happened to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first chapter of this fic that's probably going to get discontinued because I have no motivation or plot for it.

The crowd cheered for him, the man whose body was painted white and blue to look like a Jester — hat, pointy shoes and all. He threw flaming knives in the air, balancing on a unicycle. Children in the front row covered their eyes in fear, peeking through their tiny fingers with anxious curiosity, as he threw a knife high and then caught it at the last minute. He flashed a proud grin at the kids and watched their faces light up in awe.

Jamison was the best juggler the circus had ever hired, and he was also good with the younger kids, being so young himself. But that wasn't a concern for the owners of the circus. All they cared about was money, not the audience, and most certainly not the performers.

It was the final minute of his performance, and Jamie had the entire audience in the palm of his hand. He began to throw the knives faster, catching them at awkward positions and earning gasps from the crowd.

Suddenly there was a sudden sharp pain in his calf, and then another. More pain kept hitting up his legs and hitting his back and causing him to stumble and rock horribly. Pain hit his bare lower back and made him slip up. His left foot moved off the pedal of the unicycle and he hit the dirt floor with a hard thud. The flaming knives came down, one landed on his left arm, slicing it and making it bleed, while another hit his head and caught his hair on fire.

Jamison rolled, yelling for help, and after a few seconds too long, one of the staff ran to him and put the fire out. Part of his face was burned, and a large section of his hair had been singed off.

He didn't remember passing out, his body must have reacted on its own to protect him from the pain. When he woke up, he was in a bed covered with a blanket, and that itself was unusual. At the circus, he slept outside behind the tent, lying in the dirt. He opened his eyes and to his right there was a woman in white with her hair pulled up into a blond ponytail staring down at him. She greeted him, asked him how he was feeling, and then told him that his ankle was sprained and his head had been burned. To his left was his boss, a man in his 50s with a permanent scowl on his face. He was always angry at something, and most of the time it was Jamison.

The doctor and his boss talked, she gave him pills and an ointment for Jamison's burns, which the boss tossed aside as soon as the doctor left, and then it was just him and his boss. The man turned to him, walked over, and leaned down to eye level. "You're performing tomorrow."

Jamison wasn't one to withhold how he felt, so he shot back with, "Guess I won't need your help fallin' this time—."

His comment earned him a hard slap from the back of his boss's hand across his face, the thick gold ring chipped his tooth and made the inside of his lip bleed. Jamison momentarily fell back into line until his boss stormed out, and then raised his middle finger to the man.

Jamison found out the next day that he couldn't stand without a crutch. Not well, anyway, but his boss made him. Made him get back on that bike, made him toss more flaming knives until Jamison's blue and white make-up was running down his face from pained tears and sweat, and he literally couldn't stand anymore. He'd lost track of how many times he'd fallen off that bike, and by the end of the day, his ankle had swollen up so much that he couldn't get his shoe off without crying in pain. He left it on that night. 

The next day was his usual day off, and instead of spending it around town as he normally would, he spent it lying on the dirt out trying to ignore the throbbing in his ankle. He'd gotten hurt before, but this felt different. He was hurt because his employer didn't think we was doing a good enough job, but that was ridiculous — he was the best. He guessed they just wanted to put on a different type of show, spread some hype about the circus being dangerous and unpredictable, even at the cost of Jamison's health.

In the evening, he was finally able to get up and walk around some. He wobbled around the area where many of the other performers ate, and then ventured outside along the tent, but his attention was soon grabbed by the sound of his boss speaking. He was talking about numbers, food, and shelter to someone outside.

Jamison peeked around the tent and saw his boss talking to someone who was sitting against a brick wall of a building near the tent. The man looked massive, he was covered in a ragged coat that covered his body, and his face was wrapped up in dirty bandages, with long, white, greasy hair coming out of the top. He sure looked like a freak that'd get sucked into the circus. His boss turned around and Jamison quickly ducked to hide, but he heard the man speak about reconsidering an offer.

A few days later, Jamison saw the large man again. His name was Mako, or so he'd heard from another performer. Mako walked right passed him as he entered the tent, and he ignored Jamison completely, as if he didn't even exist. He was tall, and very large, sturdy like an old oak tree. Jamison felt like the man could crush his skull with one hand, and without even trying either. He liked him though, odd as that was. Didn't know him, didn't care if he didn't either. He liked how Mako trudged through the place, heavy footsteps thumping the ground, body swaying side-to-side, but most of all he was curious why he was her. The man was a beast, and scary too, and it didn't take Jamison long before he put the pieces together.

Mako was what the circus needed. The main attraction, Jamison Fawkes, the daring juggler, riding atop a unicycle, laughing at the risks while throwing flaming knives, was injured and hasn't been performing well or at all lately. Mako was his replacement, or at least a distraction until his ankle healed. He was offended by that, even though the boss was a shitty person who beat him on days he refused to preform, he was good at what he did, and to be replaced just like that? He hated it. This was his life, it was all he knew how to do. 

One night, he poked his head into the tent while Mako was performing. He was painted and dressed up to look like a monster right out of one of those old movies, ugly and murderous, with fake blood covering him. He roared at the "Heros" like he was told to, and after some stunts from the Heros and some fighting, the monster fell and they saved the day. The show was indeed entertaining, but Jamison hated it. He saw the monster on the ground, panting and sweating so much that the make-up was starting to run off of skin. It was abuse, torture, it was cruel. The Heros beat him with wooden sticks during the show, pushed him down, and hit him more, and he wasn't allowed to fight back. Even the other performers were cruel to each other. And the crowd thought it was all just pretend.

Jamison watched day after day as the poor man was beaten, yet he said nothing to him. Jamison wanted to, but he felt like Mako would walk right through him if he tried to stop him for a chat. The man had a reputation already. He was the big beast of the circus now, everyone either wanted to see him or fight him themselves, or so Jamison had overheard in town. Apparently Mako had already gotten into some fights outside of the circus.

Jamison's ankle still hurt, but he was at least able to stay on his bike now, and preforming was easier. It'd been a little over a week since the Mako joined the circus, and Jamison's curiosity had reached a fever pitch. They'd never spoken or interacted, only standing beside each other in silence before performances. Jamison was convinced that the man didn't know he even existed, and he wanted to change that.

Jamison hobbled outside to where the beast slept. He slept outside just like himself, as did a few others. There was an alley behind the tent where a set of buildings were, and it's where Jamison had found that Mako slept and stayed. As he got closer, he heard voices, aggressive in tone. He peeked around the corner and saw three men, one of which was getting right up in the big man's bandaged face, egging him on, trying to get him to fight. They were bullies, harassing him, saying they could take him on, one-on-one. Jamison doubted it.

And he was proven right when one of the three insulted his manhood, calling him weak. Mako's hand was suddenly on his throat, he easily lifted the other off the ground, and then tossed him away. Another yelled and tossed a punch, but the beast grabbed his arm, spun him, held his shoulder, and cracked his arm, leaving him squirming in pain. The third man stood in horror and then took off running, knocking into Jamison as he left and making him fall to the ground. 

Mako heard Jamison's yelp and saw him, and momentarily stopped his rage, but the man he threw earlier came back and punched him hard in the face. Blood stained through the bandages from his lip, but it hardly phased the man, he wound up a punch, and the man took one hit before he fell, and then scrambled to get away like the other one did along with the man with the broken arm, swearing back at the large man.

Jamison watched them all run off, but then looked back to the other, whose gaze was seemingly on him like a sniper's. Jamison felt a chill run up his spine and fear took over, making him run off like the others. Mako was terrifying and his aura was dark, he looked like a real beast standing there. As Jamison ran, Mako sighed and fell backward against the wall, sliding down and sitting on the cold ground.

The incident had freaked Jamison out, but his curiosity would be the death of him and he knew that. The next day in the morning, after going around town to do some "errands," Jamison sneaked back over to where Mako was likely still sleeping. This time, it was an entirely different scene than yesterday. Instead of sleeping like Jamison thought he'd be, Mako was sitting against the wall, holding something in his hand. At first it was hard to see what it was, but soon, two fluffy brown ears popped up between thick fingers.

A bunny. A tiny little bunny. Mako, the brutal monster who broke a man's arm yesterday, was petting a bunny so gently and calmly. It was confusing, but Jamison didn't let it deter him. He stepped closer, his foot snapped a small twig and made the bunny run off. He froze when Mako looked up at him, and for a moment he thought he was going to get attacked, but instead the man just watched him in silence.

Inch by inch, Jamison approached him like a animal inspecting another, and then pulled something out of a ragged bag he had around his shoulder. He placed a covered object in front of Mako and then ran off again.

Mako eyed the object that the strange blond man had placed in front of him. It looked like a wrapper, so he poked at it, and since it felt squishy, he lifted a part of it and saw that it was a loaf of bread, freshly baked too. He knew the kid must have stolen it, but why he stole it for him was unclear. Still, the gesture was nice, and although unexpected, Mako accepted it. He pulled at the bandages around his mouth and ripped off a piece to eat.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Thanks for reading!**  
>  If you like this fic, please let me know with a comment! It's what keeps us writers going!  
> Follow me on [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/squeakster_) for personal/fanfic updates!  
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> 


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